


Please Come Back

by LillaJoba



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Post-Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillaJoba/pseuds/LillaJoba
Summary: "Why did he need to be logical,  if it meant accepting this?"Even months after the fight with Lucifer, their losses still loom over them and, with Jack not really knowing his heritage, Castiel and their mum gone, and the brothers still grieving, cases aren't the only thing making their lives tough.





	Please Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few days after the finale, so I needed to make myself laugh, which is why there are a couple of jokes snuck into this. But it's a serious fic. I promise.  
> Also, I wrote Jack just like a teenager, which was really fun. I hope you enjoy!

Cas is coming through the portal, still growing fainter. Sam and Dean stand a metre in front of him, shocked by his appearance but their relieved smiles show that it’s not in a bad way.  
“Cas.” Sam says as Dean smiles at his friend. For a fraction of a second, everything feels, and seems, calm. However, before any of them can appreciate the feeling of finally having a win, the one person, the one angel, non of them wanted to see escaped his intended trap, unnoticed until…  
“Dean. Hey, wake up.”  
At the table in the bunker, Dean sits, still half asleep, with his head resting uncomfortably on a large, leather-bound book open about halfway. Sam is standing with his hand on his brother’s shoulder, gently shaking him awake. Dean blinks a few times and sits up straight as the younger Winchester sits down opposite him, both feeling the awkward atmosphere in the room, both with a pained expression on their face.  
Sam looks at his brother, who’s wiping his eyes, and down at the book in front of him. He takes a deep breath, still keeping his eyes on the book which Dean is covering with his arm.  
“Mom or Cas?”  
Dean looks at his brother, turns away, sighing, and closes the book.  
“It doesn’t matter.”  
Neither of them know what to say.  
“Dean,” Sam says in almost a whisper. “We’ll figure something out.”  
Anger filling inside him, Dean turns back.  
“How?” Sam drops his gaze once more, not having an answer. “Tell me. Mom is in an alternate reality which we have no idea how to open, and Ca…” His voice trails away.  
Sam is beginning to clutch at straws.  
“Look, Mom may be in another world, but she’s alive. And Cas…well, he’s died before.”  
“Yeah. But he was always brought back to us. God-Chuck-always brought him back.” Dean is losing his patience, though not with Sam. “But where is he now? It’s been months! Cas died trying to save the world from his mess of a son, even Crowley sacrificed himself to save us. He owes us, but he’d rather be off, skipping town with his sister.”  
He stops and once again stares at a spot in front of him as Sam copies. Dean stands up and pulls the book towards himself. He stops. His expression softens as he looks down at the cuts on the table, DW and SW. He takes the book slightly further away from the desk to reveal two more initials.  
A few hours after the events of the portal, Sam, Dean and a young, dark haired man seemingly in his twenties walk into the bunker. Sam and Dean are carrying shovels, and are covered in dirt although a few streaks of sweat and tears are visible on their cheeks. Dean lays the shovel against the table and leans onto a chair with both hands grasping the back. Sam sits down on the other chair and covers his eyes. No one is paying any attention to Jack.  
“Sooooo, what do you want me to do?” He asks, still obviously confused as to what’s going on.  
“There’s a spare room downstairs. Go in there.” Dean replies, not looking at him.  
“Woah, hold on, I barely know what’s going on. A few hours ago you tried to kill me and we just buried a body. I came with you because you promised you’d tell me what-” but Dean cuts him off.  
“Then leave if you want to.”  
Jack stares at him and his eyes flash yellow, prompting Sam to stand up and rush around to him.  
“What’s going on?”  
Sam looks him up and down. “How much do you know?”  
Dean finally looks at them.  
“I know I’m not normal. A half angel, or whatever.” Dean looks sceptical, while Sam just furrows his eyebrows in confusion.  
“How can you possibly know that?” Jack looks up at him and raises an eyebrow.  
“It’s not something you miss. I have memories and…sensations or whatever, somehow.” He looks around the two of them. “But I don’t know my father. Or my mother. I just have this video I found at the house.” He takes out the memory stick Kelly recorded from his pocket. “I don’t even know who they are and I want to know what’s happening!”  
His eyes flash again. Dean advances but Sam puts his hand out. He turns to Jack.  
“Why don’t you, uh, go to the room, and we’ll explain everything later, yeah?”  
Jack glances, annoyed, at Dean and nods.  
A few seconds pass as they wait for Jack to leave.  
“I can’t believe you didn’t let me kill him.”  
Sam looks at him, stony faced. “He was one of the reasons Cas….” He tries to continue, but finds it really difficult. “Would he have wanted you to kill the person he gave his life to protect?”  
Dean doesn’t answer, just stares at the table, eyes landing on the place where his and Sam’s initials are carved into the wood. He looks at it as a tear rolls down his cheek. Thinking of Cas, of their Mom, of how they should be celebrating defeating Lucifer, celebrating, all together, all of that being over, not grieving for them. He takes out a knife from his pocket and twirls it once in his hand. Sam walks over to him just as Dean is angrily cutting into the table and when he’s done, three more letters are visible. MW and C. He looks at it for a second, as Sam smiles at the table, the knife still in Dean’s hand, loosely held by his side. He keeps looking forward and thinking for a second, lifts it again and adds one more letter so that it now reads different; CW.  
Dean is still holding the book, a few inches above the table, evidently not realising what he’s doing.  
“Dean?”  
He tears his eye from the table for a second and then looks down at the book. He tightens his hold on it and chucks it to the wall, just as Jack walks in, barely avoiding the flying book.  
“Bad time?”  
Dean looks at him, clearly still not trusting him, but Sam goes over and breaks the silence.  
“When’s a good time?” he says, picking the book up. “What is it?”  
“The same thing as it has been for the past 5 months.”  
Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. “Not this again.”  
“Dean.” Sam says warningly.  
“Look, I’ve been here, even though I maybe needn’t have, and you’ve told me some things but you still haven’t mentioned my dad.”  
“Well we have had bigger things on our mind, in case you hadn’t noticed.”  
“Dean.” Says Sam again.  
“I want to help, but you need to involve me.”  
“You want to help? Figure out a way to bring them back! It’s your fault they’re gone anyway.”  
“Dean!”  
“What?” He has been losing his temper easily for a while. Jack looks angry as well. No one speaks.  
“I’ll do what I can.” And with that, Jack walks away, up the staircase.  
Dean sits down as Sam replaces the book on the bookshelf.  
“You can’t keep doing that.” Sam warns, turning around and walking back to his chair.  
Dean looks up at him. “Do I have to remind you what happened last time we trusted someone, or some people, we had no reason to?”  
Sam sighs. “Not all kids are-”  
“He’s not a kid. Have you seen him?”  
Sam continues. “Not all people are like their fathers. And you tried to kill him as soon as he was born.”  
Sam is slowly approaching the Nephilim, who is sitting in a dark corner of the room. He is wary but confident, although he’s too consumed by grief, the loss of Mary and Cas, to feel much fear. He looks up at the wall and notices the paint job on it.  
“Jack?” he calls out. He doesn’t move. Sam walks closer to him slowly.  
“Sam!”  
Sam spins around and sees his brother standing there.  
“Dea-” he is pushed to the side of the wall as Dean rushes past him and pushes Jack to the back of the room.  
“Open the portal!”  
“I don’t know who you are!”  
“Dean!”  
Some kind of force forces him off the Nephilim and he is momentarily airborne. Sam rushes over to his brother.  
“We can’t hurt him. We need to help him.”  
Sam and Dean are sitting at the table, Dean covering his face in his hands. Both of them are holding back tears, neither wanting to give in as they’re both worried that giving in means giving up.  
“You know, you’re right about Mom. It’s killing me that we got her back and then had to lose her again but you’re right. She’s not dead. And she’s strong. We might be able to work out how to open the portal again and get her back. But Cas?” Dean is shaking his head. “I told him we’d be able to make things up. Like always. That once the whole Lucifer thing was over, we’d make things work. You, me, Mom and him. But we never even got the chance. And I don’t know how we can save him.” He can’t go on anymore, and Sam understands.  
“Dean. Whatever the case is, we won’t lose.” He lowers his head and smiles. “We aren’t the losechesters.”  
Dean stares at him.  
Meanwhile, Jack is standing in a field, looking around. He heads over to a place where there is a hastily made cross made from what seems like two boards of an old fence. The cross is lopsided, weather worn and weeds are growing all around it. But still, it stands there, visible amongst the unusually high grass growing beside it. He kneels down in front of it and looks at the plants now growing under his knees.  
"I can remember you. From before I was born. I mean, I don’t know who you are but I remember something. A feeling.” His face shows no emotion, but he keeps talking. “I don’t know how to bring you, this you, back. But your friends have reminded me, a lot, that I opened up portal when my Mom was pregnant with me. I guess I can try that.”  
He places one hand on the damp soil in front of him and, without knowing what he needs to do, places the other out behind him. He doesn’t know why he even came to the grave, but he doesn’t dwell on it. He closes his eyes and thinks of the connection formed. The connection he still remembers between him and Cas.  
He doesn’t have any sense of time, not knowing how long he’s been there, but as he is kneeling there, eyes closed, concentrating on even he isn’t sure exactly what, something happens. More like somethings happen. The wind picks up around him, blowing his relatively short hair in as many directions as possible, the sun, which before this was illuminating the clear, beautifully blue sky, disappears behind a previously non existent cloud, more clouds start forming around it until the area is shrouded in darkness and then, not too long later, a bolt of lightning strikes the ground about 5 feet away from his outstretched hand. He hadn’t noticed anything until that moment, when he felt a sting in his arm from the electricity the lightning bolt created. As he opens his eyes and looks around, wondering how he could have missed all of the events happening around him, the sky starts to clear, the wind slows down to a pleasurable breeze and Jack is left looking at a thin, golden streak where the lightning had struck seconds before. He smiles, feeling pretty pleased with himself.  
He walks gingerly to the door between the two worlds and as he gets closer he feels a tingle in his arms. He stretches out a finger, realising he’s not remotely scared and touches the light….  
A few days pass without any sign of Jack by the boys. Sam is worried about how he is, while Dean is far more worried about what he’s doing. Dean sits down, a burger in his hands, at the table which Sam is already sitting at.  
“Have you heard from that son of a bitch yet?”  
As Sam is about to answer, the door of the bunker opens and they both look up. Jack enters, looking dishevelled and bloody.  
“Hey, speak of the devil.” Sam throws Dean a stern look. Dean shrugs.  
Sam turns his attention back to Jack, who is now nearly down the stairs.  
“Where have you been?”  
Jack looks guiltily at them. After what he’s done, which seemed like a great idea at the time, he’s not sure how they’ll react.  
“Well, I kind of-maybe-” He stutters.  
But, at that moment, the door swings open again and a man with deep blue eyes, dark brown hair and wearing a dirty trench coat and tie walks in. He speaks in a deep, manly voice which, the Winchesters know, is far lower than his vessels voice.  
“I don’t know the protocol here. Do I stay outside?”  
Sam and Dean don’t know what to say. They are mesmerised as the angel descends the staircase. Coming closer, it’s clear there’s something different about him. His clothes are much more torn and dirty, he looks more battle worn than the person Sam and Dean knew, but there’s no mistaking who it is. Or at least, who his vessel is.  
“Cas?” Dean breaths, barely able to believe his eyes.  
The seraph narrows his eyes. “My name is Castiel.”  
The two brothers look at him and slowly, all three of them turn their attention to Jack. He sighs and obeys under their questioning looks.  
“Okay, I may have opened the portal you’ve been talking about.”  
At those words both Sam and Dean’s eyes widen. They look from Jack to the unfazed angel standing between them.  
“I couldn’t find your Mom, but somehow,” he indicates towards Castiel “he was easier to find.”  
Castiel turns his head to look at Sam and Dean.  
“You must be the Winchesters. The ones who were supposed to prevent Lucifer from achieving the apocalypse. I’ve heard about you. From him.” Neither Sam or Dean respond, but they’re saved the need.  
“After he tried to kill me.” Says Jack, unresentfully.  
“You are an abomination. Angels aren’t suppose to breed with Humans.”  
“Wow, cheers. Don’t have many people skills do you?”  
Sam and Dean watch this transaction in complete shock. After what seems like an hour, Dean seems to somewhat regain knowledge of his surroundings.  
“Uh, I’m just, I, um, what in the holy hell is going on?!”  
“Hell is not holy.” replies Castiel. Dean stares at him.  
“I can’t bring people back from the dead,” says Jack, turning to Dean, “but as you’ve so often reminded me, I opened another universe so…”  
Sam and Dean are looking at Jack, still unsure what’s happening. Castiel is still simply standing there, looking around the bunker with mild interest. Sam clears his throat. Dean seems transfixed by Castiel.  
“So, let me get this straight. You opened up the portal again?” Jack nods. “Did you close it after?”  
“Sam, bigger fish.” Dean practically yells, not taking his eyes off the angel. Sam turns to look at him, his eyes also resting on Castiel for a second. He leans in and speaks quietly so that only Dean can hear.  
“You do remember who’s trapped there, don’t you?”  
They look at each other for a second.  
“Who’s trapped there?” asks Castiel, giving all of them a jump.  
“Damn angels.” says Dean.  
“Well it doesn’t matter. “ Jack interjects. “I’m pretty sure I closed it.”  
Sam nods and Dean removes his eyes from Castiel.  
“So, uh,” mutters Dean, now avoiding his eye, “you said you couldn’t find Mary. Why was…he…any different?” It’s clear he doesn’t want to refer to him with his name.  
“I was at his grave when I opened the portal. I don’t know how or if that effected it, but I found him.”  
Dean nods, pursing his lips. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”  
He doesn’t wait for an answer but drags Jack into the library, leaving an anxious and confused Sam alone with Castiel, who moves closer to him, looks him up and down, makes eye contact, with Sam barely wanting to breath, & turns away, looking around the bunker. Sam stares after him, wide eyed, as he wanders around the room.  
In the library, Dean is looking at Jack unblinkingly, with him mirroring it. Despite Jack being technically only a few months old, he’s still almost the same height as Dean.  
“What the hell were you thinking?” he says angrily. His voice is quiet but clearly annoyed and somewhat emotional.  
“I’m sorry, okay? I wanted to help.” Jack explains.  
“And you thought bringing someone to remind us that our friend is dead would be of help?” Dean says desperately.  
Jack looks down in front of him and out at the scene in the living room. He tries not to laugh as he sees Sam, stiff as a board, with Castiel looking curiously at him. He takes control of himself.  
“Look, I’ve been trying hard for a long time now, and if I messed up I thought I was doing the right thing. So can you please-what are you smiling about?”  
Dean has stopped looking angry and, for the first time, smiles.  
“What?” he looks back at him. “Oh, you, uh, you just reminded me of someone.”  
He stops smiling and looks not angry, not exasperated, but devastated.  
“I understand you wanted to do the right thing.” He lifts his head up. “But he isn’t our friend. He doesn’t know us and…we don’t know him.”  
“Maybe you could try to get to know him? I mean, there had to be a point where you didn’t know the other him, right?” he asks, trying to diffuse what’s happening. “He is still technically the same person, just not from the same place. I’m sure if you got to know him then-okay, even I don’t believe what I’m saying.” He gives an awkward laugh, but continues quickly. “He came here for a reason, he could have easily not. At least do something.”  
He walks past him, into the living room, leaving Dean standing alone.  
Dean walks into the next room where Sam and Castiel are sitting at the table, having an unofficial staring contest. Jack is hiding his face behind his hands so that he can’t be seen laughing. As Dean walks in Sam looks away from Castiel, but doesn’t speak. Dean is still avoiding looking at the angel. After a while, he says what is on his mind, still not looking at him.  
“You can share memories, right?” he asks hopefully, looking at the ground at his feet.  
Sam and Castiel both look at him curiously. Jack has stopped laughing. Realising what Dean is getting at, Sam gives one slow, comprehending nod.  
“Every angel has the capability to take or share memories from people, yes.”  
“Do it.” Dean says, finally catching his eye line.  
“I can’t create emotions, only see memories.” says Castiel in a matter of fact voice.  
“I don’t care right now, it’s the best idea I’ve got.”  
“Dean-”  
“Sam, if you have a better idea I’m all ears.” Sam looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what. “Thought so.” He turns back to Castiel. “Do it.”  
Castiel looks between Sam and Dean. He stands up and walks up to Dean. He turns to look at Sam.  
“I’m going to need you too.”  
Sam hesitantly stands up and joins them. Jack is watching interestedly, not moving a muscle. Castiel looks back and forth between the Winchesters. Dean swallows. It feels very weird to look into the familiar blue eyes but not know who is behind them. Castiel lifts his hands and presses two fingers to each of their foreheads.  
It’s a sensation they’ve never felt before. It feels like every memory they’ve ever had with Cas is multiplying, spreading, and then, finally, getting released. It doesn’t hurt but there’s a strange feeling of overloading about it.  
Once it’s over, they know it must have only lasted a few seconds, but it feels like hours. Reliving everything, as if it was a vivid dream. Castiel stumbles back, knocking into the table. Sam and Dean don’t notice this as they are looking at each other, clearly both having felt the same thing. Jack rushes over to Castiel.  
“Guys?” Sam and Dean turn away from each other, seeing what is going on. They steady him and he uses the table to hold himself up, keeping his eyes closed.  
“Are you okay?” Sam asks, concerned.  
He opens his eyes slowly, still looking like he’s trying to understand what happened.  
“It’s too much.” he says eventually.  
“What’s too much?”  
“The memories, the thoughts. You’ve had those already but I needed to take them in.” Castiel gasps, breathing heavily.  
Sam, Dean and Jack all look at each other as Castiel lowers himself into a seat. Dean waits a second before speaking.  
“So, it worked, right?”  
Castiel looks up at him, for the first time showing some feeling towards him, but it’s not affection.  
“I got your memories.” he says.  
Dean once again looks at Sam, who looks back at him but with more scepticism.  
“Well? How do you feel?” He asks.  
Castiel stares at him, not knowing what he should say.  
“I told you. I can’t create emotions.”  
Dean’s face drops. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it still hurts.  
“So you remember everything but….you don’t feel anything?”  
Castiel looks around the brothers. He drops his eyesight. “They don’t even belong to me. I’m sorry.”  
Sam is staying quiet, but Dean can’t help himself.  
“Are you?” he asks, accusingly. “Or do you just know you’re supposed to be?”  
He turns his back on them and heads up the stairs.  
The next morning, Dean walks past one of the rooms on his way to the kitchen and sees Castiel sitting in front of the TV, straight backed and head tilted, wearing a now seemingly cleaner trench coat. Dean realises, even in another world, that part of him will always remain the same. Dean stands at the doorway, trying to stay out of view.  
“Hello, Dean.” says Castiel, not taking his eyes off the screen.  
Dean closes his eyes and comes into view. Castiel turns to look at him.  
“What is it?”  
Dean stares at the stranger in front of him. It still pains him to look at him.  
“Why did you come here?” he asks, not knowing why.  
Castiel looks at him like he is an interesting exhibition. “What do you mean?”  
“I mean,” he says as he walks into the room. “Jack said you tried to kill him.”  
“He’s a Nephilim.” he tells Dean.  
“I know.” Dean responds. “But you didn’t hurt him. You listened to him, you came here. And you haven’t tried to kill us either. Why?”  
The angel is still staring at him, making Dean uncomfortable, like he used to feel around Cas when they first met.  
“I didn’t feel I belonged there.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Castiel considers him for a second and turns back to the Television.  
“Angels, demons, humans, all fighting. All killing each other. I never wanted that. I had a mission to complete. To fight on the side of heaven. That was my job as a servant of the lord. But when I heard there was another world, a world saved by two insignificant humans,” he is still staring at the screen as Dean rolls his eyes, “I wanted to see what it was like. Where there’s harmony.”  
He finishes as if it were nothing, but that last word reverberates in Dean’s head.  
“I wouldn’t say this was harmony.”  
“Call it what you want, angels are not randomly killing each other, killing humans. Humans aren’t killing angels for no reason.”  
“So,” says Dean, his eyes starting to get wet, “why did you not like it? I thought angels wanted the apocalypse.”  
Castiel is still looking ahead of him, completely unfazed by the weight of this conversation. “They did. But it was different for me.”  
Dean looks confused. “Why?”  
“God created you for a reason. It wasn’t to watch his creations destroy one another.”  
Dean looks at him, tears now glistening on his face. He finally gave in. That last sentence changed the way he looked at the person in front of him. For the first time, he saw more than a reminder that his friend was gone. He remembered Cas saying to him humans were works of art, he remembered him rebelling from heaven to save humanity and as he looked at the angel in front of him, he saw his friend before they met. He looks down at his shoes.  
“You know, you remind me a lot of him. Not only because he was as awkward as you,” he laughs. Castiel turns his head to look at him. “but because there’s so much that’s the same between you. I guess a lot that happened in this world was inevitable. But still,” he shakes his head, “I don’t know you. And it’s killing me that you remember everything but…you don’t feel anything towards me and Sam.”  
Castiel listens to this, seemingly not thinking anything of it, but still responds when Dean stops.  
“I’m sorry. Memories are not the same as feelings. I know I’m supposed to feel something, but I don’t know what.”  
Dean doesn’t know what to say so he turns around and heads out of the room. He stops at the door and turns back around to face him.  
“Cas-” He closes his eyes. “Castiel?”  
He turns from the TV and looks at Dean.  
“Couldn’t you bring…you…back?”  
Castiel breaks eye contact. “No. Even angels don’t know what happens to them when they die. And I haven’t died yet. I can’t bring back anyone if I don’t know where they are.”  
Dean nods sadly, turns again and continues walking out. He walks back to his bedroom, completely forgetting breakfast or where he was heading. He walks into his room, closes the door behind him and sits down on the edge of the bed, staring into the distance for he doesn’t know how long. He adjusts his jacket, more out of habit than anything else, and feels a thin, rectangular object in his pocket as he does so. He looks down to it and bites his lip. He takes it out and holds it just above his lap, more tears start leaking from his eyes, as he looks at the small cassette tape.  
Dean’s kneeling beside Cas, still disbelieving what has happened. He saw it, all of it, but still can’t believe it. Doesn’t want to believe it. He had lost his Mom for the second time, to a world full of monsters and war, his unlikely ally in Crowley who he actually felt some gratitude towards, who would have thought, but the realest and at that moment the most painful, was his loss of a best friend. Yes, he couldn’t stand the idea that he wouldn’t see his Mom again, after adjusting so much to her being back, but it wasn’t her body he was left looking at. It wasn’t her shirt soaking in crimson blood that will be etched into his memory. His wings burned into the ground, unmoving, not breathing, all signs pointing to what he was dreading, but it couldn’t be real.  
“Cas?” he calls out helplessly.  
He stares down at his friend’s motionless figure, just waiting for him to open his eyes. He couldn’t have left them. Dean always expected to have him to rely upon. To be there for him and Sam. What was he going to do now? He may have been used to loss, but that didn’t make this any easier. No, he simply couldn’t be dead. He had to come back. He just had to. But despite how hard he tried, his broken wings scorched into the ground at his knees would not get out of his mind. He looked him up and down, looking for a single sign that this was not real. That it was a joke. Cas never had a conventional sense of humour after all. But non came, and the numbness he had felt was quickly replaced by a horrible empty void where is best friend used to be. His angel. His brother.  
As he was looking at him, not even caring that his eyes were like big green waterfalls, he sees a small box at his chest pocket. Dean reaches out a trembling hand and takes out black cassette, one word catching his eye. ‘Dean’s’.  
Dean is still holding the tape, smiling in a devastating, reminiscent way. He hasn’t been alone much for a while, but now that he is, he is completely oblivious to his tears, and more importantly, he doesn’t care.  
Sam’s in the kitchen mulling over a book. Or at least it appears as if he is. He has been looking at the same page for over 10 minutes, coffee in one hand and a glazed, absent look in his eyes. For a while now, he had felt he had to be the strong one, the logical one. Dean had always been his guardian, his protector, the big brother. He put his life on the line for Sam, he had actually died for him, he had done everything. Now Sam felt like it’s his turn. His turn to keep everything together, to not break, but it was getting increasingly more difficult to do so. In a way, it made him appreciate his brother even more for always managing, but also hate the fact that they had to fight this hard just to keep going.  
He was the one who had to drive the impala that night. Dean was in the back seat with Cas’ body, Jack in the passenger seat next to Sam, thoroughly confused. Sam was struggling to keep his eyes open, stinging from the effort of holding back tears.  
They had buried Kelly in the yard of the house. They didn’t know what she would have wanted or if she had any family, but it didn’t feel right to leave her. Or burn her body. They decided to put her to rest where they were. It was a very beautiful place after all. But they couldn’t do that with Cas. Despite knowing, although both of them were hoping otherwise, that he was gone, they both wanted him closer.  
They arrived at the field near the bunker and as they stopped, the only one who left the car straight away was Jack. Sam and Dean were both reluctant, as burying him would mean accepting that he wasn’t coming back. Eventually, Dean left the car, but Sam remained in his seat. Why did he need to be logical, if it meant accepting this? He lost his Mom, after finally having gotten to know her, which he never imagined he would, and now he and Dean would have to bury their best friend. He took a deep breath to steady himself and, together, he and Dean lifted the limp body off the backseat and placed him, more gently than necessarily needed, onto the grass at their feet. Dean, not wanting to look at him any longer, went to get shovels out of the car, but Sam stood, rooted to the spot, staring at his friend’s empty face. He didn’t even care if Jack or Dean were looking, he stopped holding back and let his tears roll down his cheeks and hit the ground, invisible once they left his face.  
Music sounded from down the corridor, bringing Sam back to the present. He didn’t blame Jack, he knew he just wanted to help, even Dean realised that, but bringing Castiel over from this other, unknown world didn’t help. If anything, it hurt the situation. He looked down at his book, remembering why he had it open on that particular page.  
A few minutes pass before the music subsides and Dean enters the kitchen, clearly trying to hide that he had just been crying. He turns to look at Sam and speaks in a much more gruff voice than normal.  
“What are you reading?”  
Sam looks at him, debating whether he should say. He decides against it.  
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”  
Sam is avoiding his brother’s eyesight and it’s obvious that Dean doesn’t believe him.  
“Sam, what is it?”  
Sam catches his eye and nods, changing his mind about telling him.  
“I found a spell. To combine to people’s consciousness. It’s never been used on angels before, as far as I can tell, but I thought…” he leaves it hanging in the air.  
“Hang on,” Dean says, and for the first time in a long time, he looks excited. “did you seriously find a way to fix this?”  
“No!” Sam is wanting to pull the band aid off quickly. He sighs. “Both people need to be alive, their consciousness still has to remain in their body. And we need the power of an archangel for it.”  
Dean looks at the book still open on the page, thinking. Slowly, he looks up and talks.  
“Unless….”  
Jack and Dean are standing with shovels around the old, beaten down cross. Jack looks less convinced than Dean. Jack is leaning with his chin on the handle, looking at Dean, who has already started to dig.  
“This is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.” Jack says, drily.  
“Yeah, well,” reacts Dean, not stopping digging, “you’ve only known me a few months. Now get to work.”  
Jack rolls his eyes. “Why didn’t you ask Sam to come with you?”  
“Because we needed him to stay with Castiel.” He turns to look at him. “And seriously, pick that shovel up and start digging.”  
Jack tilts his head, looking exasperated. He flicks his finger and the majority of the soil, which is much dryer than it was when Jack came to visit, soars out of the grave and lands with a dull thud next to Dean. Dean stares at it, and slowly nods.  
“You couldn’t have done that 10 minutes ago?”  
Jack smirks and shrugs. Dean looks down into the shallow, uneven grave, and spots a trace of light brown fabric. He looks at it for a second, not baring to keep digging for fear of seeing his face, but he breaths in and carefully dislodges the rest of the earth with his hands to avoid any damage to the body.  
After another minute or so, Dean’s hand touches something much softer than soil. He stops, half excited, half dreading what’s coming, he dusts away the rest as Jack crouches down at the edge of the pit, and uncovers the strangely intact, but incredibly dirty, face of Jimmy Novak, though Dean sees someone completely different. He looks for a second and reaches into his jacket pocket. When he extracts his hand, he is holding a big, mostly metal syringe, with a long point. He turns it over in his hands once.  
“Now what?” asks Jack.  
Dean doesn’t say anything but, cautiously, places the needle against Cas’ neck, feeling slightly guilty even though he knows it won’t hurt him. He slowly pushes the metal into his neck, Jack watching eagerly, and waits a second, worried that it won’t work and wanting to maintain the possibility, but as he begins extracting the plunger, a blueish silver substance, more similar to gas than liquid, starts getting dragged into the barrel.  
Sam is sitting at the table, feeling anxious. Castiel, still unused to this new world, is looking around the bunker, currently downstairs in Dean’s room.  
“Sam?” a voice calls from downstairs. Sam turns around.  
“Yeah?”  
Castiel comes into view, a few thin boxes held in his hands.  
“What’s ‘Game of Thrones’?”  
Sam looks surprised and then smiles.  
“Found Dean’s collection, have you?”  
Before either of them can say anymore, however, the door of the bunker opens and Sam is looking up at the two figures of Dean and Jack.  
“Well?” he asks, having put a lot of hope into this, despite his better judgement. He doesn’t need an answer as, when Dean’s face comes into view, his delighted smile, a smile Sam hasn’t seen for a long time, is answer enough. Sam returns it, but Jack is still unsure.  
“You know, it still might not work.”  
“Shut up.” Sam and Dean say in unison.  
Castiel is standing a small way back, looking at the interaction. He looks confused, tilting his head slightly.  
“Sam, Dean?”  
They turn to look at him, having calmed own a little. Dean notices the confusion in his face, another thing that seemingly remained the same between him and the Cas they knew, and turns to look at Sam.  
“You didn’t tell him?”  
Sam shakes his head.  
“No, I’ll be honest, I thought it might take you a bit longer to dig up a grave.”  
Dean inclines his head.  
“Yeah, well,” he glances at Jack wondering if he should say. Jack shrugs his shoulders and frowns. Dean turns back to face Sam. “we were quick.”  
Sam nods. “Okay. Let’s do this.”  
They both look at each other, trepidation on their faces. Jack is standing behind Dean, Castiel behind Sam, looking between the 2 of them.  
“Do what?”  
They don’t know how to explain the situation, Sam standing with his mouth slightly open.  
“Well,” says Dean as he places a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve done my part, it’s your turn, Sammy. I’m going to get a beer.” and he leaves the room before Sam can strangle him.  
“Okay, let’s go.”  
Some time has past since Sam was made to explain the events. Jack, Castiel and the angel grace are at the table, Cas indifferent, Jack still sceptical. Dean approaches them and sits down, waiting for Sam to join them. He comes into the room barely a minute later, carrying a bowl, a knife and a length of rope.  
“Okay, everyone ready?” Sam asks, now filled with nerves.  
“I have a question,” Jack quickly responds, “there’s a literal angel sitting 2 feet from you. Why are you asking for me to do this and not him?”  
The brothers look at each other for a millisecond but quickly recover.  
“The person performing the ritual has to be impartial, not one of the people being joined.” Sam says quickly.  
Jack seems pleased with this answer. It wasn’t a lie, to be fair. But that was never the reason they asked Jack to do this. Dean turns to look at the angel sitting next to him.  
“You are okay with this, yeah?”  
Castiel turns his head and, to Dean’s disbelief, smiles.  
“He really cared about you. I saw it the way he looked at you.”  
Sam never heard this, as he was explaining to Jack what to do, but Dean has a sudden, intense rush of affection towards Cas and starts to miss him more than ever. Over the past 2 days, he rarely thought about the person sitting next to him having his memories, it seemed so odd to him, but this reminded him and he was glad to realise, not in an unpleasant way.  
“Okay, so you know what to do?” Sam says to Jack, as Dean turns his focus to the two of them.  
Jack nods. Sam does too.  
“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. He can’t even not give his hopes up and neither can Dean.  
He takes the tube, still filled with the silvery blue substance, and pours it into the bowl. Jack takes the rope and ties a knot in the middle, then places one end of it into the basin, touching the grace, and hands the other over to Castiel.  
Dean takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and pushes it in front of Jack.  
“Say this, remember.”  
Jack nods at him, and looks down at the paper, handwritten instructions on it. He breathes in and places both hands on the rope, either side of the knot, and begins to read.  
“A-Adiuro hi unam…eandemque usque…mortis terminum usque…ad finem.”  
The lights blow out above them and all 4 of them look up, but nobody moves anything but their head. Slowly, Jack looks back down at the knot and his hands and reaches over to grab the knife laying on the desk. Keeping one hand on the rope, he pulls it closer to himself, removes his hand and quickly, in one fluid movement, slices across his palm, wincing very slightly but keeping a steady face. Blood starts to drip onto the tight knot in the centre as Jack continues the spell, speaking louder, more confidently.  
“Et sanguinem meum, et non erit alligatus ut non confringetur.”  
His eyes glow, brighter than they ever have before, but Sam, Dean and Castiel only have a brief moment to look at this as the rest of the lights blow out and Sam and Dean are tossed from the table, both hitting separate walls.  
They don’t know how long they’ve been out, but when they come around, everything still looks the same so it couldn’t have been long. At least as far as they can see in the dark. Sam fumbles a little getting up. Dean is still passed out. He runs over to him and starts shaking him.  
“Dean. Dean, are you okay?”  
Dean starts stirring and soon regains control. He looks around, squinting in the dark. Sam runs over to one of the cupboards and takes out a flashlight and a wind up lamp. He places both on the table, winds up the light, and lights the flashlight in his hand. As soon as he does this it is clear that something happened. The question is, did it work or did something go horribly wrong?  
Dean has now joined Sam at the table, who seems somewhat paralysed and it’s easy to see why. Castiel and Jack are both sitting in their chairs, in some form of trance. Not fainted, it was clear to see, as they were both upright, and holding onto the rope which Jack seemed to have grabbed again. Their eyes are closed, but both seem to be breathing.  
“This is weird.” Dean comments.  
Castiel is standing in a white room, similar to the corridors of heaven, but also very different. He looks around, intrigued, wondering where he is. It isn’t even a room, in all honesty. It’s more like…well, it’s hard to explain. It’s just emptiness. Bright white and empty, no doors, no windows, not even a visible, or feelable, floor. He is just…there, wherever “there” is.  
“Hello?” a deep voice calls out from behind him, a voice which he recognised.  
Castiel spins around and sees a person who he has gotten very familiar with, especially whenever he looked in the mirror. They approach each other, Cas more confused than his doppelganger.  
“Jimmy?” asks Cas.  
“No.” replies Castiel.  
“Then, I don’t understand.”  
Castiel looks at him. He realises he won’t need any “people skills” as he’s talking to himself.  
“I’m Castiel.”  
Cas, understandably, looks unconvinced, but doesn’t back away. Can you even be scared in death?  
“Hey, hey, can you hear me?” Dean’s voice sounds all around them, as if through an almost broken loud speaker. Faded, but perfectly clear.  
Cas forgets everything going on and starts looking for the voice he hasn’t heard for so long.  
“Dean?”  
In the bunker, Sam and Dean are still looking, worried, at the pair at the table. It’s clear both of them are having the same queries about this, but neither of them want to be the one to say it.  
“You know,” Sam speaks finally, “we both knew there were many things that could go wrong.” He expects Dean to intervene but he doesn’t say anything, so Sam continues. “We don’t even have one of the people here, Jack isn’t technically an archangel-” but Dean puts up a hand to silence him.  
“It will work.”  
Cas is still looking around frantically, while Castiel looks like he finally is starting to understand emotions.  
“They need you.”  
Cas stops looking around and turns to his other self. He realises what’s happening.  
“What did they do?”  
“You’ll find out, I’m sure. But you need to go back to them.”  
Cas looks at him.  
“They are better off without me.”  
“You and I both know that isn’t the case. We have both committed the crime of disobedience, even in different worlds. Mine is gone now, but you can still help save yours by going back to them.”  
The bunker fills with an ear splitting, hair raising sound, breaking the glass still intact in the room, making Sam and Dean recoil and cover their ears, not that it helps. Dean recognises the sound, he had heard it once before, but doesn’t care about that. The noise just keeps going. And going. 2 seconds. 5 seconds. 10. And then…silence. The same eerie silence that had fallen across the bunker right after they finished the spell apart from the ringing in the brothers ears. Haunting. They stand up again shakily. Jack and Castiel do not seem to have heard it, or been affected by it. However, before either Sam or Dean can begin to think about what had just happened, Castiel jerks and snaps his eyes open.  
“Cas?” Dean yells, rushing over to him, but he still doesn’t seem to be in the room.  
He starts shaking violently, falling off the chair, but, despite what may have been expected, his hand was still tightly clutched around the rope. The grace in the bowl begins floating above, forming shapes in mid air and splashing in and out, though that may not be the best description. Is splashing the right way to describe something which isn’t fully liquid? Sam and Dean knelt down beside him, trying to stop him shaking. He arches his back and then, as quickly as it started if not even faster, he goes limp, eyes closed again and once more in total darkness.  
All Dean hears is the ticking of the invisible clock, so loud it could be in the room.  
“Sam? Dean?”  
They jerk their eyes away from the face of the angel, seemingly sleeping, in front of them. Jack has woken up from the hypnotic state he was in previously. Sam stands up and goes over to him while Dean remains on the ground but keeps his eyes on Sam and Jack.  
“Hey, are you okay?”  
Jack looks at him and then at the splintering cut on his hand. He flashes his eyes yellow and the cut heals so quickly it can barely be seen.  
“Dean?” says a soft, quiet voice from the ground, regaining Sam and Dean’s attention.  
Dean looks incredibly nervous, worried his next question will ruin the tiny seed of hope that had began to grow inside him over the past few hours. Sam also looks worried about what’s coming.  
“Cas?” asks Dean, hardly baring to listen to the answer. They haven’t had a lot of good luck in their lives, after all.  
The angel sits up and looks at the big green orbs in front of him and up at the hopeful and terrified look on Sam’s face. He smiles.  
“Hello.”  
The worry and fear begin to melt away like butter on a hot surface, replaced with the most wonderful feeling both of them have hardly ever felt in their lives.  
“It..it worked?” Dean says so quietly it’s barely even audible over his unnaturally fast breathing.  
Cas looks between the 2 of them, eyes also staying on Jack for a second, before answering.  
“You Winchesters never give up, do you?”  
Not caring that his heart was beating about 2000 beats per minute, or that he was crying or sweating, Dean leant forward and pulled his friend into a hug, crying into his shoulder, as Sam joined in less than a second later. They didn’t say anything for a long time, surely making the Nephilim at the table uncomfortable, and just sat there, the 3 of them swaying on the spot, all elated, all crying their hearts out. After what must have been a good 2 minutes or so, non of them really had any idea, Dean broke the hug, looking angry and looked at his best friend who he can’t seem to take his eyes off.  
“You promised you wouldn’t do anything like that again!”  
Cas smiles at him, a sad smile with tears still in his eyes, but despite that, he still seemed happy. Dean grabs him again and hugs him.  
Jack smiles at the scene and around the bunker. It seemed everyone had forgotten they were in darkness. He didn’t want to break up what was happening, but he also didn’t want to be in the middle of it.  
“I’ll, uh, I’ll go out and get some more bulbs, yeah?”  
He gets up to leave and is already at the foot of the stairs when a voice calls him back.  
“Jack?” Dean calls to him, having broken off the hug.  
Jack turns his head. Dean gives a small shred of a smile.  
“Your mom would have been proud of you.”  
Jack is taken aback but pleased. He decides not to push the topic of what his dad would have thought of him. Now wasn’t the time. He heads up the stairs and out of the building.  
He walks down the streets, realising he’s never actually been to any shops anywhere near, but just keeps walking, surely there’s bound to be something nearby. He walks along a mostly deserted road. Mostly, only because of one person. One person watching him intently. Staring at him, eyes fixated on him, as their eyes turn a dark, hollow black.  
“Did you think we wouldn’t be able to sense such power?” asks the woman.  
Jack turns so quickly, if something was within a metre of him, the gust would have been sure to knock it over. The woman has shoulder length brown hair, although the tips seemed lighter, was slightly taller than Jack, which was saying something as he was above average as it was, and a round face. She was thin and her nails had the appearance of being well kept but like that had been abandoned not too long ago. Jack couldn’t see her eye colour as all was black and yet, he didn’t know why, he found this strangely reassuring.  
“What are you?” he asks in a strong voice.  
The woman walks over to him, now so close that her face was a few inches away from his. He doesn’t back away.  
“A friend of your father’s” she speaks in low but unmistakably female voice.  
She closes her eyes and when she opens them again, they are no longer deep black, but a pale, baby blue.  
Jack’s face slackens and, for the first time, seems flustered.  
“My..my father?”  
The woman smiles, seemingly pleased.  
“Here, sweetheart.” she says with the air of someone comforting a baby. “Let me show you.”  
She grabs his arm and, within a second, they’re gone.  
Cas has found the initials on the desk. Dean went to the bathroom a few minutes prior and Sam is cleaning up the broken glass in the room. Cas runs his fingers over the letters, visibly touched, but there’s something else in his eyes. Gratitude, which isn’t too unusual, but also another thing which Sam notices, but can’t place his finger on. He stands up and walks over to him, smiling. He turns to look at Cas who is still staring at the table.  
“Are you okay?”  
Cas turns his head and looks up at his friend.  
“I remember everything. From both this world, and the other one too. It feels like I lived 2 different lives and, I guess it’s not as bad as if you combined 2 different people, but I don’t know what to do.” He looks down at the table again. Sam is still watching him carefully. “I saw what the world would be like if it wasn’t for you. I just don’t know how much help I am.”  
Sam notices the pain in his face, the guilt of everything he’s done and, somehow, knows what to say.  
“Cas, look, I don’t know much about that world but if it wasn’t for you, Dean and I would both still be in hell, the world would have ended years ago & it would not look much different.” Sam says comfortingly, “You aren’t a sidekick or anything. You saved the world.”  
Sam and Cas look at each other for a second. Cas hears the sincerity in his voice and looks grateful as Dean enters back into the room.  
“Alright? Han, Leia.” he says, still smiling and coming down the stairs, making them confused as they thought he was in the bathroom.  
“Who’s who, Chewbacca?” Sam asks jokingly.  
Dean gets to the table and pushes a six pack of beer in front of them. “Shut up and Drink.”  
Sam picks his up.  
“So, going to the bathroom, huh?” He teases.  
“Hey, we all deserve a break.” He turns to Cas. “Cas?”  
Every time he hears that name, it’s like he hasn’t heard it for decades. It’s hard to understand how much someone can miss a name, a voice. Cas takes the bottle Dean hands him. He’s never told them how he hates the taste, but at that moment, it doesn’t matter. He still feels weird after coming back, not sure where he belongs, what he deserves, but he knows which world he prefers. And he is there. There with the two people who, for some reason, still wanted him back.  
It’s been a few hours since Jack went to get lights, he still hasn’t returned. Sam and Dean are not as worried this time, but Cas is.  
“Any word?” he asks Dean.  
“No, we decided not to get him a phone until he is twelve.”  
“Dean, this isn’t funny. Angels still want him.”  
Sam walks over to them and works out what they are talking about, even though he only heard the latter part of the discussion.  
“Cas, you were right about him. He isn’t evil and he can protect himself. I’m sure it won’t be long.”  
Sam takes a drink from his beer and Cas nods.  
“Thank you, by the way. For not hurting him.” He directs this comment mostly at Dean, who notices this and smiles at him.  
Jack is standing in the middle of an old asylum, demons surrounding him.  
“You are lucky we found you before the other side did.” says a tall man, standing on his right.  
“What other side?” asks Jack.  
“Angels, of course.”  
Jack thinks he understands.  
“I know, Nephilim are illegal, or whatever.”  
The demon’s all smile at him, now sure he doesn’t know who he is.  
“But do you know why they are after you, more than any other Nephilim they’ve ever hunted?” says the same woman with short brunette hair, circling him, making Jack feel like he’s in some awful movie.  
“I didn’t know anything about that.” he says, truthfully.  
“Of course you didn’t.” she says. “Do you even know who your father is?”  
Jack doesn’t respond. He isn’t liking the situation.  
“The best leader hell has ever had.”  
Jack furrows his eyebrows, but doesn’t interrupt.  
“Lucifer.”  
Jack snaps his head around to look at her, who is now behind him  
“No. I’m half angel, not half demon.” he says, although he doesn’t sound convinced.  
“I guess those Winchesters didn’t let you research anything. Lucifer was never a demon. He was our creator.”  
Jack starts looking irritated, but doesn’t move.  
“Why would I believe you?”  
“Because we are on your side.”  
“It’s Sam and Dean who have known me for my whole life. Why would they have helped me if I was the son of the devil?” but he sounds even less convinced.  
“Have they helped you? Or kept an eye on you?”  
Jack looks down at the ground. His mind gets filled with the first time they met. When Dean tried to kill him. He lifts his head up and his eyes shine, his clenched jaw and anger on his face making him look, for once, threatening.  
Back in the bunker, Sam, Dean and Cas are talking. Nothing else exists at that point.  
“So, hey. Where do angels go when they die?” Dean asks.  
Cas looks at Dean.  
“Why are you asking now?”  
It’s a fair question. It wasn’t the first time he died.  
The door of the bunker opens before any of them can say anything else and Jack walks in, all eyes on him. He looks angry.  
“Jack.” Cas begins, standing up as well as Sam and Dean, but Jack walks straight past him.  
He squares up to Sam, thinking he’ll be more honest with him.  
“Who is my dad?” he says in a voice so unlike his own. Cold.  
Sam looks around as if hoping someone will jump in and help him out, but both Cas and Dean look lost as to what to do.  
“It’s true isn’t it?” he asks, still in the cold, threatening voice. “I’m the child of satan.”  
No one draws a breath. Sam, Dean and Cas look worried, Jack furious.  
“Jack-” Dean starts heading towards him but Jack puts a hand out, pointed towards Dean, and he is pushed, hard, against the wall.  
“Dean!” Both Cas and Sam start heading towards him, but before Sam can move more than a few steps, he is also thrust to the wall.  
“Is that why you wanted to kill me, Dean? Huh? Worried I was going to live up to my dad’s legacy?” he slowly heads towards him.  
Jack and Cas are the only ones able to move freely, but Cas doesn’t know what to do.  
Sam stares at the half angel and his brother with wide, pleading eyes.  
“Jack, please. We’ve known you for months, I know you’re not-”  
“SHUT UP!” Jack yells and Sam starts to choke.  
“Sam!” Dean screams, but as soon as the words escape his lips, he starts suffocating.  
Neither of them can do or say anything.  
“Jack, stop.” Cas says over the struggle and his voice is very worried and emotional, but strangely calm.  
To everyone’s surprise, including Jack’s, the effect he had over the brothers subsides and they are left gasping on the floor.  
Cas looks at his friends and he is suddenly reminded of something. When he was possessed by Lucifer, with Sam and Dean trying everything to get him back, and the archangel choking them, almost killing them. He didn’t know he had that memory until then. Then again, it could have been Dean’s or Sam’s.  
Non of them understand what happened, but Cas has no intention of working it out that second. He walks closer to the Nephilim who looks confused but still confident and, if possible, even angrier.  
“Leave them alone.” he says in a warning voice that could rival Jack’s.  
Jack stares at him, but makes no moves to hurt him or Sam and Dean. His eyes glow gold once again, but he just walks away, up the stairs and out the door. Cas’ eyes follow him until he is out of sight.  
He walks over to Sam and Dean.  
“Are you okay?” he asks, a worry in his voice they’ve rarely ever heard.  
They have regained their breath.  
“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine.” says Dean, unsure how to react to what has just happened. “What the hell was that?”  
Cas shakes his head. “I don’t know.”  
“That was not him.” Sam adds, also shaking his head.  
“We’ll have to find him.” Cas says, steadying the two of them.  
Dean’s right. They definitely deserve a break. Whether they get it, is another story.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it this far, and hopefully enjoying it. Sorry about the length, I know it’s really long. I didn’t even write everything I necessarily wanted, maybe in a part two? She asks, unsubtly. Anyway, what did you think?


End file.
